Gladys
by Random Writings
Summary: So was Booster's marriage a bad scheme or a worse joke? Maybe they're both right? Or both wrong... A what if scenario, in which we all find out more about the mysterious Gladys...


(I do not own the characters, merely borrowed them. As I borrowed a concept (but not the dialogue) from Doctor Who. Maybe the Time Traveler's Wife too, I dunno, never saw the movie. Many thanks to Esther-Channah for betaing.)

Gladys

When Max brought it up, Booster thought he was making a joke. After all, with all the money-making schemes that had fallen through for him during his time with the JLI, it would be hard for people to swallow the idea of Booster Gold being independently wealthy. These people would be the ones that forgot that Booster had once been worth 100 million dollars, and that he'd earned every cent of his fortune. If there was one thing Booster could do, it was make money.

Keeping it was an entirely different matter.

So, he played along with Max's ribbing, thinking it was only that: a joke.

Then Blue Beetle had started in on him shacking up with a 65-year old woman. Making a note to talk to his agent about this, he'd kept playing along. Added in a face lift and any other plastic surgeries he could think of, just to see how far he could push it before someone called him on it.

The only thing was, no one ever did. Eventually he got bored with it and made up a fake divorce to go along with his fake marriage. As crises and deaths occurred, he forgot about "Gladys" and everyone else did too. Occasionally though, they'd remember.

"For the hundredth time, I just made that up!" Booster dodged an energy blast before tackling its source. "I have never been married, especially not to someone twice my age."

"That's not what the internet says," Power Girl gritted out as she grappled with the largest of their foes. "And that's not what Beetle told me."

There was a flash of pain that had nothing to do with the battle. Booster wondered grimly if there would ever be a time when hearing about Ted wouldn't make him feel like his chest was in a vise. The momentary distraction cost him, as the guy below him managed a hit. With his force field off for the moment, he caught the blow on the chin, seeing stars as he fell back. The guy stood up, prepared to press his momentary advantage. However, several blasts from a golden football-shaped robot stopped him. Skeets put himself between Booster and the terrorist, allowing the golden hero to recover.

"Perhaps you should focus on the fight and not your love life," the robot commented dryly. "Especially as one is real and the other fictional."

"See," Booster said as he climbed to his feet, ignoring his friend's verbal jab. "Skeets knows it's a joke, and Skeets knows everything about me."

"Unfortunately so," Skeets agreed, flying a distance away to provide support if Booster needed it, as the hero rejoined the fray. Power Girl snorted.

"As I recall, he wasn't around for the wedding."

"There wasn't a wedding!"

"What are you guys talking about?" the new Blue Beetle, Jaime Reyes asked, looking away from his opponent. Not that it mattered, as the third would-be destroyer of Metropolis was already on the ground, armor smoking from the scarab's energy blasts.

"Booster Gold here once married a grandmother for her inheritance and it backfired." Power Girl replied, before Booster could get a word in edgewise.

"That's not what happened; don't listen to her, kid," Booster snapped, laying out his guy with one final punch. "I never married an old lady for her money, it didn't backfire, and I'm not paying anyone alimony."

The final would-be-terrorist landed on top of Booster's knocked out baddie. Power Girl walked up to him, brushing off her hands with a smirk. Booster glanced down the street, where reporters were beginning to gather. Soon, they'd gain the courage to start over to them and the last thing he wanted was for them to overhear this conversation.

 _Just when you think you've put something to bed,_ he thought bitterly. Instead, he slapped on a smile. There was a thud next to him as Blue Beetle decided to add to the pile.

"Really? Weren't you the one always supplying details-"

They were coming down the street.

"Power Girl," Skeets interrupted. The robot was once again hovering over Booster's shoulder, apparently "watching" the bickering duo. "This is not the time to bring up false rumors."

"What, worried I'll make your boss look bad in front of the press?" Power Girl teased, with less venom then her words would indicate.

"More worried what other rumors might reappear in circulation. As highly public figures, no one's past is free of incidents best left forgotten." Skeet's tone, as much as a robot could have tone, made it clear he wasn't just referring to Booster Gold. Booster couldn't help but smile at that. His flying friend might not always agree with him. He might criticize him on occasion, but he always had his back. He knew how hard it was for the golden superhero to have such a tarnished reputation. Bad enough everyone thought of him as nothing but a media whore. To be a gold-digger on top of it was adding far too much insult to injury.

He felt more than saw Power Girl's glare, but ignored it, stepping forward in anticipation of the limelight.

"Booster Gold—" all the reporters began. Booster began answering the questions directed at him in rapid, practiced succession. A few of the reporters peeled off to start interrogating Blue Beetle and Power Girl, who were stepping away, moving back to the pile of unconscious baddies. To them, it was just another media circus following a successful fight and better left to the guy who couldn't get enough of them.

"Sir, excuse me, sir, I'm a representative of Gladys Carter's estate."

Booster felt his smile stiffen.

 _Oh God no._

A short man with thinning hair and a business suit had stepped in front of the reporters. Everything about him screamed 'lawyer' in bold letters.

"I do not know anyone by that name," Booster Gold said, even as the reporters caught on to that line of questioning immediately.

"Booster Gold, are the rumors you married a wealthy matriarch true?"

"Booster Gold, what is your relation to Gladys—?"

"Please, please, quiet down," the representative ordered. It shouldn't have worked, this small man in front of a crowd of shouting people. Somehow it did, if only because they wouldn't hear what he said if they didn't shut up. He gave them a narrow-eyed glare, before tugging out a piece of paper. Out of the corner of his eye, Booster could see Power Girl and Blue Beetle walking back over. Power Girl was wearing the vindicated look of a superhero with equally super hearing.

 _Perfect._

"Look, I don't know what you're hoping to gain, but I don't-"

"Here," the man thrust a paper onto his chest. "Mrs. Carter told me to give that to you and tell you to read it _carefully_ before saying anything."

 _This is a load of—_

Booster looked down at the paper, skimming it at first. It was a marriage certificate for a Gladys Carter and Booster Gold. It was signed by both parties.

"I never—"

"She said _carefully_ , sir. She stressed it more than once."

So Booster read it again, carefully. This time though, his eyes caught on an important piece of information.

The issue date.

 _Well, I've been half right these last few years,_ he told himself. She hadn't been 65 when they were married, not if that date was right.

"Is this legitimate?"

"I've just scanned the records of that year, sir. The document is real and valid," Skeets piped up. Booster glared up at his flying companion.

"You never thought to mention that, according to this time, I'm married?"

"I never had reason to search the records that far back. Only a few weeks after a par—"

"Skeets," Booster interrupted, not to actually ask a question, but just to stop the little robot from revealing any other unsavory facts about him.

"What's the matter Booster?" Power Girl teased. "Finding out about a wild night couple years back?"

"Something like that," Booster replied, looking back at the certificate. It was a lot more than a couple years. No use fighting it any longer. He sighed and looked at the man. "What does she want?"

"She's dying."

The silence that followed was only interrupted by the groaning of the terrorists on the ground and the sound of reporters scribbling notes and taking pictures. For his part, Booster just stared, unsure of how to react.

"Mrs. Gladys Carter requests that you visit her one last time at this address," the man said, handing Booster a card. The address for one of Metropolis' premier nursing homes was on it. "She also requests that… Skeets not accompany you."

"Why?" the robot in question asked. The lawyer looked uncomfortable for a moment.

"She said you didn't need to have any more 'spoilers,' whatever that means. Mrs. Carter is a bit of an eccentric."

"She'd have to be," Skeets replied.

"I've never… I don't…" Booster began. He should refuse to go. By all rights, this broke a dozen time-travel laws. Or at least it should. Time legalities were a bit of a mystery to him. Popping up somewhere to steal a helmet was kosher, but step on a butterfly and risk the universe exploding. And talking to someone who knew a future version of you? That sort of thing messed with timelines, which messed with Booster's head. Not to mention, Rip would kill him if he found out.

But… this woman may very well be his wife one day. How could he face her, if he knew he'd leave her to die alone someday?

The thing about Booster was that he never loved anyone halfway. If someone he cared about was in trouble, he'd do anything for them. Even if it risked the entire universe.

Even if he hadn't met them yet.

"I'm going," he said, more to Skeets than anyone else. If his flying companion had any objections, he didn't voice them.

"Will you be needing a ride?" the lawyer asked. Booster shook his head, rising up into the air.

"Where are you going Booster?" Power Girl asked. "We've still got to clean up this mess."

"You two and Skeets can handle this," Booster tried for sarcastically reassuring, but it came out shaky. "I've got to go meet my dying wife."

And with that he was off.

Nursing homes, as a rule, were creepy. There was no denying that. They were where people were warehoused before leaving the mortal realm, an idea that Michael Carter had never been comfortable with. So walking around one trying to find Gladys's room was unnerving. Worse still, her room wasn't under her name, leaving him wandering down halls with no idea which belonged to his future bride, looking at each vacant-eyed crone in growing horror.

"Mr. Gold?"

Booster looked to his left and found an attending watching him warily.

"Are you lost?"

"Yeah, I'm, uh, trying to find Gladys's room?"

"Your _wife's_ room is this way."

There was a distinct undercurrent of disapproval in that voice that Booster was getting far too used to hearing. That didn't stop him from following the orderly down the hall though. His guide took him past dozens of people in wheelchairs and walkers, and nurses who sized him up and found him wanting. He grinned nervously at them.

"Here we are, room 217, Mrs. Gold's room." The nurse paused in the doorway. "Hello, Gladys, how are you?"

Booster heard an old woman reply, but the words were muffled. His hands itched as he watched the nurse go in. This was it. Part of him expected a time vortex to open any second now, with Rip appearing, either to tear him a new one or to summon him away.

"Never knew you to be a shy one, Michael," a voice called out before devolving in a coughing fit. The rasping breaths were audible even in the hallway. "'Course you might have been a coward before I met you. Anything's possible."

A taunt like that deserved an answer. Booster plastered on his cockiest smile. With a confidence he didn't feel, he stepped into the room.

It was dark inside, with only the soft light of the window revealing the interior. There was a bed and two chairs. The walls were decorated with newspaper clippings of Booster's exploits, but there were no pictures or personal effects. No wedding photos or family memories decorated this place. It was eerie.

In the center of the creepiness was an old woman with thin grey hair, looking straight at him. Eyes that were far too bright drilled into his like they could see into him. It only took a moment for her to match his grin with one of her own.

"There's my brave husband."

"Hey Gladys," Booster said, going for overly-familiar rather than greeting her as the stranger she was. It earned him a barking laugh, followed by a coughing fit. It was concerning, and instinctively Booster stepped forward. The nurse tried adjusting her position, but the woman simply waved her away.

"Stop it, I can manage," she wheezed. With a sigh she settled back. "I'd like to talk to my husband privately."

"Mrs. Gold—"

"I'll be fine dear. He's a superhero after all." Another grin followed that declaration. It was almost like she was sharing in some private joke with him, only he didn't know any of the punch lines.

The nurse gave them both uneasy looks, but left without commenting. The door closed behind them, and they were alone.

"Please, sit," Gladys said, motioning toward the chair on her left side. "On the side with my good eye, if you don't mind."

With little in the way of choice, Booster sat. The silence was almost predatory, demanding to be filled.

"Nice place… Kind of barren."

"Well, that's the thing about time travelers isn't it?" she commented, her striking eyes finding his again. "Can't leave much of yourself anywhere. Especially, not in the past."

"You're from the future?" Booster asked. The marriage certificate was from thirty years ago, but that meant very little when factoring in time travel. Gladys laughed and coughed.

"In a way yes… In a way no…"

Vague answers: The bread and butter of time travelers.

"We all have our favorite times… Funny to think we both settled in this one… Different reasons…You settled for the heroes… I settled for you."

"Just the kind of thing a guy wants to hear from his wife," Booster quipped. His wife smiled.

"I'd say you know what I mean, but you don't."

An uneasy pause came about then. They were two strangers, but at the same time, not.

 _This is why I hate time travel,_ Booster thought to himself. Nothing could be straightforward. But that never stopped him from trying.

"Why did you ask me to come? It's got to be breaking some kind of rule."

"Ha. Rules," the woman snorted. "I'll have you know that I will be, and technically am, your wife. The only rules you need to worry about are the ones I make."

It provoked a genuine smile out of Michael. The woman had spirit, he'd give her that.

The smile faded as hers did, and she looked away.

"I wanted to see you, really see you one last time. Today's my last day, Michael. I know it. I've known it for years."

Booster wondered how literal that was.

"You look pretty healthy. I've seen people at death's door before and—"

"Michael," the voice was soft and reprimanding. Those eyes were once more piercing his. Booster stopped talking.

"As I was saying. It's my last day and I wanted to see my husband again."

"Why me, though?" A raised eyebrow conveyed the feeling that this was a stupid question. "I mean, why me and not... you know: Old me."

"There is no 'old you'," she informed him. "I've grown old without you…"

This was getting into territory that reminded Booster of charred skeletons in his suit. His own mortality was once more being thrown in his face. He looked away. She continued talking. "Part of that aging is because I left the time- walking to younger souls. Didn't much care for it once you were gone. You age quicker when you stop bathing in chronal energy on a daily basis."

What was there to say to that?

"I'm sorry I died so much sooner than you."

There was a chuckle from the bed.

"Of all the asinine things to apologize for…"

"I'm not sure—"

"It's been many years, and I have long forgiven you for dying first…"

There was more wheezing. Booster looked around, examining the clippings. There were some dating back to when he'd first arrived. It was an impressive collection.

"Do you like my collage?"

"It's… impressive."

"Our son informs me it looks like a stalker's closet."

Booster whipped his head back faster than the Flash could have managed. She stared back, smiling.

"You told me once, Starro threatened his life. I figured it was safe enough to mention."

Now wasn't _that_ the gateway to a lot of questions?

 _I have a son_ …

So many questions. What was his name? What did he look like? How old was he?

But there were rules.

"Where is he? I mean, I'd like to think my—our son would have enough love for us to visit his mother on her death bed."

"There will be time enough…" she wheezed, a small sad smile crossing her face. "He's angry… Angry that I won't go to the future and let the doctors there fix my failing heart."

Michael swallowed thickly. He understood that anger, where it came from. Hadn't he watched his own mother begin to waste away in front of his eyes? Hadn't he gotten desperate enough to gamble his life away, just for the chance to help her?

A soft hand rested on his. Booster looked to Gladys's hand on top of his gloved one.

"Why won't you go?"

"For everything, there is a time and a place… and my time is done…" she told him quietly. "In truth, I'm tired. Tired of being alone, tired of watching my loved ones die… Tired of knowing… that you're not the you I know, that I remember… You're just an echo of what was…"

It wasn't fair that she put it all on him. He didn't want to be the reason his wife was letting herself die. He drew back, crossing his arms.

"Why not find someone else? You're… you were young enough. Might still be."

The woman flexed the hand that had so briefly rested on his, choosing to look at it, rather than him.

"Time travel… You'd think it would help with grief, but it only complicates it." Gladys looked away. "I envy the linear. When their loved ones die, they mourn them, grow used to the idea they will never hear them… But for us, it's not the same. You know this. How many times have you come to terms with Ted Kord's death? Three times? Four?"

He didn't answer that. She continued.

"Time travel complicates grief, because we can always go back and talk to them and see them again. Then we return to the present, without them, and it seems they die all over again. Yet we always go back, right when our sorrows are almost forgotten. It's tempting, to try and live in those past moments with our loved ones. The little moments when we can sneak in and pretend that death never happened. Fit into a moment lost in time so we can hear them again, talk to them… but one day, we run out of moments…"

She trailed off, her eyes briefly closing.

"Too tempting."

From a time traveler's standpoint, the story was easy to understand. She'd stopped time traveling to stop living in the past, but had ended up locking herself away in it. All for the chance to have just one more moment with someone she'd lost.

Booster lightly rested his hand on hers. She looked up startled, but then smiled. He smiled back.

"So, tell me what you can about the future," he said, "Most importantly, what stock I should be buying."

Gladys laughed at that. "I should have seen that coming."

"But seriously, I want to know more about you. About us."

"The stock tips would be safer," she said fondly. "I've already told you far too much about us."

"So, what's a little more?" He teased, knowing already she wouldn't budge.

"No, no. Besides, it's getting hard for me talk. I'm dying you know."

For the first time, Booster doubted those words. She seemed far too healthy now, too coherent to be dying. She must have gotten the day wrong.

"I'd much rather hear about you, my dear," she told him. "You should tell me all about your day and your yesterday."

"Haven't I already told you all my stories?"

"Yes," she told him, rolling her eyes. "At length, repeatedly. But let's pretend for the moment I don't know every one of your stories."

"Alright, alright," Booster faux-sighed, as though admitting some great defeat. "Well, let's see... Did I ever tell you about my team up with Power Girl and Blue Beetle to stop the… Terrible Trio of Poorly Dressed Cyborg men from… Venus?"

"Why no," Gladys said, shaking her head in exaggerated interest and disbelief. "I don't believe you have."

"Well then, let me tell you how a dashing, experienced, but still ruggedly-handsome hero saved two young heroes—"

"I thought you would be in this story, dear."

"And I thought you were planning on listening. Where was I? Oh yes. It was a dark day…"

He proceeded to tell her one wild tale after another. If she had been anyone else, he might have felt guilty about it, but she obviously knew what he was up to, pointing out flaws and inconsistencies. They teased each other and joked about what really did or did not happen. If he'd had any doubt about her knowing him in the future, it was wiped away as she corrected details about his own misadventures through time. After the first hour, Booster felt relaxed and not the least bit awkward with her. Only, there was still a question that had been nagging at him

"Gladys, why do we have a marriage certificate filed with the city? Seems risky for two veteran time travelers."

"It would be," Gladys says. "If those were our real names."

Booster smiles. Aliases were a time traveler's best defense.

"So, I take it, Gladys Carter isn't your real name."

"Of course not," she admonished. Despite her denial, Booster knew he'd going to always think of her as Gladys.

"I doubt you're going to tell me your real name..." Her smile was all the confirmation he needed. "...but will you tell me why that name?"

"I thought River Song was a little too on the nose."

"Seriously. Why?"

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes looking far away.

"I shouldn't tell you this…" For a moment he wondered if she wouldn't, but then she continued. "...But many years ago for me, I was lost. In time. There was no way to get back to the lab, no way to get back to my time. I was lost and alone and there was no way for me to reach you. No way to know if you were even looking for me…"

The hand he'd held now shifted and held on to him, as the fear of days long past was revived. She looked at him.

"I had fallen in love with you by then. I don't think you knew, not until we found each other again. In any case, all I had left were the memories of the time we worked together, of the stories you shared. And I remember you telling me the story of how everyone believed you married a woman named Gladys. So I took that name to feel like I was still connected to you, because I was sure I'd never see you again."

She drew a shaky breath, and turned away. For a moment, Booster floundered in the open display of emotion. Awkwardly, he tried patting her shoulder in a consolatory fashion.

"Well, obviously, you did."

A snort followed the lame proclamation.

"A good thing I didn't marry you for your ability to comfort people."

"I'll work on it," he returned, giving her a half smile. "By the time we meet, I'll be the best comforter you've ever met. Sweep you off your feet."

"Of course you will, dear," the old woman replied, her voice dripping sugary sarcasm.

"You don't believe me?" There was false pain to go with the false confusion. Gladys smiled.

"Dear, I still remember meeting you."

"Fair enough."

They were still smiling pleasantly at each other when the orderly came in.

"Mrs. Gold? I have your dinner and medication here."

"Please Ms. Wills, just give us one more moment. I lost track of time and there are two things of vital importance I must tell my husband." Gladys's face took a serious turn and Booster felt his own stomach turn with it. The nurse bit her lip and nodded, backing out of the room.

Booster took Gladys's hand in his again, watching her face intently. It may have only been a few short hours, but he couldn't help caring about her. She looked at him.

"There's not much time. First, I need you to go to 1152 Fleet Brook Lane. I kept a residence there for a number of years. When I die, I need you to destroy that house. Don't go inside it, just blast it. It has too many memories, too many things that could damage the timeline."

Booster nodded. It was a logical request, given who they were and what they did.

"The second thing, and this is vital, Booster, is…" she paused, drawing a deep breath. "I need a shot of Jack Daniels."

"…What?"

"You don't understand," her voice took on a wheedling quality, and her eyes managed to shine even brighter. "It has been years since I had any and I've been craving it. They won't let me have it here. But it's my last day, so you need to go out and buy some. A whole bottle, so we can have a toast or something."

Booster couldn't help it. He laughed. Of all the things in the world to ask for, his old lady asked for whiskey.

"Alright, Mrs. Gold, if it's booze you want, it's booze you'll get."

She smiled at that, a bright smile that seemed to subtract years from her face. The door opened behind them.

"Mrs. Gold?"

"Yes, yes, I'm ready." She let go of Booster's hand. "Don't let me down now, Booster. Go and get it."

"Your wish is my command," Booster said with a bow, before leaving. It was easier getting out of the place than it had been getting in. There was a convenience store only a few blocks away. The total trip took less than an hour to complete and soon, Booster was walking through the halls once more, trying to find room 217.

The hallways seemed to be more crowded than before. People were pushing past him and talking in urgent voices. As a superhero, he knew an emergency when he saw one. He quickly grabbed a nearby nurse.

"What's going on?"

"I'm sorry sir but..." She stopped as she took in his costume. Her eyes caught his, something besides just surprise shining in them. "Mr. Gold… I'm so sorry."

The sound of wheels and urgent voices caught his attention. He turned away, just in time to watch a gurney go by. On it was Gladys, her eyes closed. Instantly, he moved to follow. The nurse grabbed his arm.

"Wait, there's nothing... This is all for show."

The words barely reached him as he shrugged off the restraining hand. He followed the gurney all the way to the ambulance, where the paramedics gently, but firmly, told him he was not going to be traveling with them. At first, he didn't understand. The confusion lasted until they were a block away from the nursing home, Booster following in the air. They'd just turned the corner, when the lights turned off and the ambulance dropped to cruising speed. That was when it finally clicked.

"Listen, if this were anybody other than one of you costume types, I'd be arresting him," the officer informed the group of costume-clad individuals. The distant fire illuminated the grim looks on their faces. "But he's a cape, and I'm not going to risk my life arguing with him."

"You did the right thing, calling us," the speaker for the group assured the officer. With a grimace, he watched as another blast led to another small explosion. "We'll take care of it."

The officer nodded, walking away to where a small squadron of police cars were waiting.

"I can contain him with my ring," Green Lantern offered immediately. "While I do that, you all can put out the fire."

Batman considered the plan as he watched the figure weaving through the air attack the small house in the middle of nowhere. His eyes narrowed as he took in the shaky flight path and the bottle still grasped in the flyer's hand.

"Wait here," he said stepping forward. "I'm going to try talking with him first. See if I can't calm him down."

Without bothering to listen to any objections, Batman crossed the field toward the house currently on fire. A few yards in and he was noticed, the drunk superhero making an unsteady landing in front of him.

"Hey Br-Bats."

"Hello, Booster." Guarded eyes looked the drunk superhero over. "It's dangerous to drink and fly."

Booster snickered at that before turning around. He stumbled and Batman darted forward, steadying him.

"Just fulfilling my wife's last request."

"And the whiskey?" Batman asked, filing away the information about the wife for later consideration.

"Also a last request," he told him. "'Course, she's dead, so I've been drinking in her honor. I haven't gotten very far…"

Bruce smiled grimly. Booster was a lightweight when it came to alcohol.

"Why don't I help you with that," he said, taking the bottle away. Booster let it go, eyes transfixed by the inferno before them.

"She asked me to destroy her house."

"Odd request."

"She was a time traveler."

It took a moment for him to fully understand that. But he wasn't called the world's greatest detective for nothing. He clicked on his radio immediately.

"Stand back. Do not put out the fire. Putting it out could lead to damaging the timeline."

Booster gave him an odd look before turning around fully and seeing the line of superheroes waiting in the wings. He waved. They did not wave back.

"Guess I should have talked to someone before I started on the fire… Or before I started on the whiskey."

"Probably," Batman agreed. Which brought another question to mind. "Where's Skeets?"

"Dunno. Probably with Rip."

For a moment, Batman missed the little flying sidekick. It usually curtailed Booster's worse impulses, acting as an external conscious and voice of reason. Taking Booster by the shoulders, he helped guide him down into a sitting position. "You want to tell me what all this is about?"

"Didn't I already tell you?" Booster asked, looking at him sideways. "My wife died, asked me to destroy—"

"Somehow, I think there's more to this story than 'your wife told you to'."

There was a pause, as Booster weighed answers. Batman waited.

"I found out I was married today. Turns out Gladys is real," he took the bottle back from Batman, continuing only after he drowned another gulp. "Only she's sick, and dying and I meet her for this first time today, and she's funny, doesn't let me get away with nothing, and it's weird, and then it's not, and I swear I was only gone half an hour—"

His speech was quickly descending back into nonsense, but Batman let it. He understood the gist of it. Though the extreme show of grief over someone he'd just met was… less understandable.

"I guess I don't deal with loss well," Booster finished up. He looked at Batman then, the flames reflected on his goggles.

"You just met her today."

"I know but… I also know that I'm going to meet her. And that we're going to have a life together. No maybes about it Bats, no what-ifs. I met my wife… and she died while I was off picking up some whiskey. I feel like my father."

The last was said in a quiet voice, only half meant for Bruce. He paused to take another gulp of the aforementioned whiskey. Bruce discreetly took it back after he lowered it.

"It's funny," Booster said in a tone that belied that statement. "I decided to see her because I didn't want her dying alone… and she died alone anyways."

Batman had seen Booster kick himself for things out of his control in the past. Had seen it tear him apart from the inside out. He was also well aware that those inner demons needed more than a few minutes of talking to sort out.

"Batman to all other Justice League members: stand down. I'll be handling this situation personally. Tell law enforcement to stay away."

He cut of transmission before the arguing could start. Instead, he raised the bottle to his own lips, and took a drink. Booster watched him with confusion evident on his face.

"It's easier to finish one of these if you share with someone else," Batman informed him.

"That rule apply when there are three?"

Batman turned to find Rip Hunter standing beside them. Skeets floated on his other side, a silent, but solid presence. Wordlessly he offered the Time Master the bottle. The pull he took was considerably longer than either of theirs had been.

"Here to lecture?" Booster asked, his tone begging for a fight. Rip shook his head, sitting down with a thud next to them.

"My mother taught me to never try and stop a husband from going to his wife when she needs him."

"Smart woman," Batman commented. Booster gave a short huffing laugh.

"You didn't let her down, you know," Rip said, drinking again. "You came and that's all she asked for."

"How would you know?" Booster asked crossly. Rip smiled.

"You managed to make the evening news. Congratulations, by the way."

Booster groaned at that, flopping backward. "I already feel the headache coming on. Do I want to know how this is going to turn out?"

"No," Rip said, passing the whiskey over to Booster. Batman noted how it ended up more on the ground than in his mouth. "Tell me Booster, how can you be mourning Gladys? You hardly knew her."

Somehow, the question managed to be sincere instead of snide. Bats needed to learn how to do that. Booster sat up at that, eyes watching the fire.

"I dunno… I think it's a time-traveler thing. 'Cause I didn't… I feel like there's something missing now. I didn't feel it before, but now… it's like the loss... echoes. That's a word she used…. called me an echo. I shouldn't feel anything more than I would for anyone else dying, but her dying feels… awful. Like when someone important to you dies… Only I don't know how she's important... Except for the part about her being my wife someday… Time travel is weird."

"Yep," Batman says, taking a pull from the bottle. Maybe it would help that sentence make sense. In theory, he could understand it. In general, he could understand the theory behind time travel. The thing about Rip and Booster though, was that they were all about the application of time travel, not the theory.

"I just don't get it," Rip said, taking his turn with the bottle. "I think it's… cute—"

"Cute?" Booster snorted.

"But I don't get it."

"Maybe one day, Rip, when you meet the right person, you will. You'll know how god-awful it is when they're not with you, even if you've only just met."

"Now that's something my father would say," Rip said. There was a momentary lull. "So you, think that you had... will have this with… Gladys?"

"Rip, she's managed to drive me crazy to the point of arson and public drunkenness after only a few short hours of talking to her," Booster said, laughing quietly. "Yeah, I think she's the one for me."

At this point Batman was beginning to feel like a third wheel. Which was strange, considering he'd started out as the second wheel. In any case, the situation needed rectifying.

"That fire's getting low," he commented pulling out a few explosive batarangs. "And I think we need to make sure there's no basement. Just to be on the safe side."

He looked at Booster, who grinned back before taking off into the air. Skeets followed, nudging him to correct his flight path. It was sort of funny to watch. With a slight smile, Bruce looked at the other earthbound hero.

"You joining in?"

Rip's expression was more pensive, his eyes dark. There was something like grief in his expression, but it was hidden. There was a lot about himself that Rip Hunter hid.

"I'll watch, thanks."

It was odd, and Batman filed it away in his mental folder on Rip Hunter. He handed him back the bottle. "Here, keep that safe."

Then he was dashing off toward the building, preparing to throw the 'rangs. In the background, he could hear Booster's whoops and Hunter's toast: "To Gladys. You were—and are—one hell of a woman."


End file.
